


30 Incredible Days After John and Sherlock Came Out as a Couple

by TearStainedAshes



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge(s) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Anniversary, Coming Out, Date Night, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Star Wars - Freeform, The day they met
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearStainedAshes/pseuds/TearStainedAshes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty short vignettes about thirty specific days in John and Sherlock's life together from the day they came out as a couple and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Out

**Author's Note:**

> So I've decided to try my hand at a 30 day OTP challenge now that I'm done with schoolwork for a few weeks. I'll be using the challenge list we all know about but I cannot find the source so if someone could link that to me that would be great and I'll give the creator/poster credit. 
> 
> While my break between semesters isn't 30 days long, I'm hoping to get enough written in advance during the break that all I'll have to do is upload every day, which will save a lot of time once I go back to school in January. I will begin my final semester of university on January 11 and I'll be graduating in May if all goes according to plan and I pass all my classes. If I fuck up this semester and screw myself over by half a letter grade... No. I'm not letting that happen. This is my final semester, it will be the best one I've ever had, I'll make sure of it.
> 
> Tangent aside, I hope you enjoy these little vignettes into the lives of our boys and I'm sure we'll all be counting down the days until the Special on New Year's Day. (And the Different Clothing Style prompt will fall on New Year's Day as well. How perfect is that? (I totally planned it that way.))
> 
> I don't have a timeline set for this yet, so that will be worked out as I go along. It will be a journey for us all. So I hope you enjoy the adventure.
> 
> ~TSA

"You ready?"

Sherlock jumped, John startling him out of the trance he'd been in. He looked over at John from behind his wardrobe's door to see him casually leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a soft smile was on his face.

"S-sorry?" he stammered, mentally berating himself for showing how nervous he was. John's smile faded a bit in concern. He approached Sherlock and gently removed the jacket he'd been holding in a death grip and hung it on the corner of the wardrobe door. He took Sherlock's hands and rubbed soothing circles across his knuckles with his thumbs.

"A bit nervous, then," he said. "Me too. We don't have to do this if you aren't ready."

"No, John," Sherlock murmured as he looked down at their hands. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine. And, I suppose, it will come out sooner or later, our relationship. This way we'll have control over the situation. So we won't wake up one morning to see our faces on the homepage of every Internet news source in London. So, we'll be fine."

"Yes," John agreed. "We will be." He squeezed Sherlock's hands before letting them go. They fell limply to Sherlock's sides. "Pick a jacket. I'll be waiting for you in the lounge."

Sherlock watched as John left, leaving his field of vision when he turned to fetch his coat from the hook by the door. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm down and focus. He grabbed the jacket John had hung on the wardrobe and put it on, smoothing out the creases his grip on it had made. He joined John in the lounge and found him retyping the blog post they'd scheduled to upload later that evening.

"Stop tinkering with it," he said as he approached. "It's fine. Let it be."

"I know, I know," John grumbled. "But this is our life. This is us. And we're finally sharing it with the world. Can you blame me for wanting it to be perfect?"

"No. But I  _will_ blame you if you tinker with it too much and post it before we've even left the house and then we're swarmed with paparazzi and reporters on our walk tonight."

John's eyes widened slightly with fear at the thought. "Right. Good point." He quickly finished editing the sentence he'd been working on and Sherlock made sure the entry was still scheduled to post at the correct time before they shut his laptop. 

"Good. Now, let's go." Sherlock quickly threw his coat and scarf on and John took his hand again as they went downstairs. They paused at the door, steeling themselves for what was about to happen, what they were about to do, what they were about to officially reveal. John squeezed Sherlock's hand and looked up at him.

"Ready?"

"Yes," he whispered, leaning forward a bit to touch his forehead to John's. John lent into the touch and sighed. Sherlock laced their fingers together and, after a deep breath each to steady their nerves, opened the door.

At first, nothing happened. Baker Street was fairly empty for a Sunday evening, which helped soothe Sherlock's nerves. He'd imagined hoards of reporters, screaming fans lining the street, blinding camera flashes, microphones and recorders shoved in his face, a phone call from Lestrade about the bet going around the Yard that they thought he didn't know about. But none of it happened. At least, not right away.

They made it all the way to the rose garden in Regent's Park before they began getting odd looks and the occasional double-take. The phones came out when they found a park bench to sit on and shared a bag of crisps that John had brought from the flat. Sherlock did his best to ignore them all as he normally would, but with it being their first "out" outing, his concentration was more focused on the passers-by than on John.

"Hey." He blinked and felt John's shoe nudging against his own. He looked down at his partner and felt the pressure on his hand. "You OK?"

"I... I've been better," he answered honestly. "I know we needed to do this, but..."

"I know," John whispered. "But we needed to do it sooner rather than later. At least now we've got it out of the way. No more hiding. We can be affectionate in public without fear of a gossip columnist outing us."

"Right." Sherlock managed to smile a bit at that. "Right. We can." He grinned and quickly bent down to give John a quick kiss, surprising both of them as well as the small crowd around them. He heard numerous phone cameras going off and quiet gasps and one squeal.

"You've done it now," John whispered when they pulled apart, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. 

"Go big or go home, John," he whispered back. "Isn't that what people say?"

John laughed and nodded, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "Yes," he chuckled. "That is what people say." He looked around and saw the amount of people around them growing. "Come on. We should go before we're swarmed."

"Right. Hold on. I've got a distraction lined up for us."

"What? You do? Since when?"

"Since I contacted a member of my homeless network whilst we were kissing."

"You cheeky bastard."

"But I'm your cheeky bastard."

"Yes, you certainly are." They kissed again and Sherlock hit "send" on his latest text message, signaling his homeless network to begin the diversions so they could get home safely.

Soon a small army of the homeless network began walking toward them from every side of the park, blocking them from view so they could slip away in the crowd. Sherlock had to hunch over a bit to hide behind the shorter members of the network, but they finally made it out alright.

"The worst part's over now," John murmured when they were outside the park and headed back home. "Now the press will eat it up for maybe a week? And then we'll be in the clear."

"Right. But first, we have to make it home." Sherlock gestured ahead to the three men who were "inconspicuously" hanging around outside a nearby pub. "The paparazzi have already gotten wind. Shall we make an escape?"

"Let them take a few photos, then we can run," John whispered. Sherlock nodded and took John's hand again, lacing their fingers together and standing up to his full height, shoulders back and jaw tight.

"Try not to look so angry," John whispered as they got closer. The men shifted as they approached, reaching for their "hidden" cameras. "Just look at me. Don't look at them. Just look at me."

Sherlock took a deep breath and shifted his glare from the paparazzi onto John, his gaze softening and a small smile pulling on his lips. He didn't even hear the cameras going off or the see the flashes. All he could see was John, smiling at him, his eyes soft and warm. He moved closer and touched his forehead to John's, closing his eyes at the contact as they continued walking, trusting John to lead the way home.

The paparazzi followed them until they turned a corner and John began to run, Sherlock easily keeping up and rushing ahead to lead them on a wild chase to lose the photographers. After a few twists and turns they managed to escape, the two of them giggling as they rounded the corner onto Baker Street.

"You," John said between breaths and giggles, "are a bloody, ridiculous, fantastic man."

"I know." Sherlock smiled at him and slowed to a jog before stopping entirely in front of 221 and waiting for John. They entered the flat together and Sherlock immediately went to John's laptop to check the blog post.

"Over 2,000 hits," he announced. "Our post was only posted twenty minutes ago."

"Gossip travels fast," John said as he went to the fridge for a beer. 

"Indeed." Sherlock closed the laptop and went to join John in the kitchen. "Chinese?"

"I was thinking Thai, but Chinese is good too."

"I'll order, shall I?"

"Sure. If you'll pay too."

"Fine."

\---

**_The Personal Blog of  Dr. John H. Watson_ **

_12 October 2015_

**An Announcement**

I don't like to share too much of my personal life on here since I mostly use this for writing up my cases with Sherlock, but this is something I can't keep from the blog.

A lot of people have often wondered about the nature of the relationship Sherlock and I have, and we've dodged and evaded rumours practically since the beginning. But now it's time for the truth, and us, to come out.

*Great pun, John. -SH*

Thank you.

Also, yes, Sherlock will be commenting on here now and again as well. He'll have the little stars by his comments.

*Yes. -SH*

You don't have to initial each statement. I already told them yours will be in the stars.

*But it's my signature. I can't just  _not_ give my signature. -SH*

Ugh. Fine. Do whatever you want.

*I usually do anyway. -SH*

Yes, you certainly do.

Tangent aside, yes, Sherlock and I are dating. We are a couple, but we haven't been since we first began solving cases together.

*Definitely not. When we first met John was a closeted bisexual and I thought I wasn't interested in any relationship of any kind. With anyone. -SH*

I wasn't closeted. I knew I was bixsexual. What I didn't know was whether you were interested or not.

*At that time I wasn't. But after the Baskerville case, that certainly changed. -SH*

Yes. So, there you go. We've only been together since then, but, of course, there was that two year gap where Sherlock was 'dead' that don't really count. And we didn't immediately pick up where we left off when he came back either.

*So collectively we've been together seven months, two weeks, and four days. To be exact. -SH*

Right. Now, we won't be going into great detail about our relationship, but I  _will_ say Sherlock is a very affectionate man. Much more so than I initially expected. 

*I can be affectionate toward the right person. -SH*

And I'm it?

*Obviously. -SH*

Berk.

Anyway, yes, we're dating. Yes, we're a couple. No, we won't tell you intimate details about our relationship. And no, we won't tell you about our sex life or if we even have one.

*We don't. Yet. -SH*

SHERLOCK!

*Shut up. You can easily delete it. -SH*

You know what? Just for that, I won't. Have fun with that information, everyone.

*I can feel the fan fictions being written already. -SH*

Great. You see what you've started?

*You can't hear me, but I'm laughing madly over here in the corner. -SH*

He is. He well and truly is.

I should end this before it goes on too much longer. But I do want to get sappy for a moment before I bring this to a close.

Sherlock Holmes has been, is, and will continue to be the man I love most in this world. He completely turned my life around after I came back from Afghanistan, he brought me into his world and showed me how much I have to live for. I can honestly say I can see myself spending the rest of my life with him.

*You're such a sap. And I love that about you. -SH*

Thank you. I love you too.

*I know. -SH*

OK, everyone. Thank you for reading.

*We're going to close this now before John can go on a sappy, romantic tangent. -SH*

Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing.

*You'd make everyone cry. -SH*

Including you?

*I'd like to see you try. -SH*

That is a challenge I readily accept. 

*John, come on. Just end the blog. -SH*

Right. Fine.

Thank you for reading. Comments are appreciated but lewd comments will be deleted. As will any others I deem inappropriate or hurtful or just plain rude. I look forward to this new journey Sherlock and I are embarking on. I won't comment on it much after this unless it relates to a case. So, don't come back expecting some sort of diary of my personal life with Sherlock. This will still mainly be focused on our casework.

*Because the work is what's important here. -SH*

Not always. You're pretty important too.

*Thank you. -SH*

*I love you. -SH*

I love you, too.

*And on that note, goodbye. -SH*


	2. Lazy Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazy morning cuddles ^_^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, but it's fluffy as hell. Day three will be posted today as well. I'm already a day behind. I got a new laptop yesterday though. I traded in my old one, complete with all the stickers of Superwholock, Johnlock, Wholock, Kid!lock, and punk!Who I had on the lid/cover thing. So as I was setting up my new laptop and my brother was helping me get all the proper settings sorted, I didn't have time to write or post the chapter for yesterday. So you guys get to be spoiled and get two updates today ;)

John groaned and he woke up, feeling far too hot in the blankets. It was something he'd have to get used to. He'd never shared a bed with someone for very long, but he and Sherlock had been sleeping together for a couple months now. Just without the actual "sleeping together" part. Which he was fine with. He didn't want to pressure Sherlock into doing anything he wasn't comfortable with. After seven months of casual dating and two months of sharing a room, not much had changed between them. They still solved cases, they still argued like an old married couple, they still did everything together, only now they did them as a couple. It wasn't a subtle difference, but John could see it. Sherlock was more open, softer, and just a little kinder to witnesses. He loved that he could see such a visible change in Sherlock, that he was such a positive influence on his life.

"John?"

"Hrm?" John rolled over and pressed a kiss to the base of Sherlock's neck.

"I can feel you thinking," Sherlock murmured. "Stop. It's too early for that."

"It's 11 o'clock in the morning," John said, chuckling softly.

"It's a Sunday," Sherlock grunted. "Sundays are for sleeping."

"Since when? You've always been up at the crack of dawn since I've known you, regardless of what day it is. What changed?"

"It's your day off," Sherlock said quietly. So quietly John wasn't sure he'd heard him right. Sherlock rolled over to face John, a sleepy smile on his face. "It's my favorite time to spend with you."

"And you say I'm a romantic." John grinned and kissed him. "OK. We'll have a lie-in. And maybe I'll cook us brunch once you're fully awake."

"Mmmmmm," Sherlock hummed and nuzzled his cheek. He fell asleep cuddled against him, wrapped up in John's arms. John played with his curls as he slept, brushing his fingers through his hair and gently scratching his scalp now and again. Sherlock hummed every time and nestled further against John. John closed his eyes and rested his head just on top of Sherlock's on the pillows, dozing until he felt Sherlock begin to stir.

"Coffee?" he asked as Sherlock came around.

"Please," he mumbled. But before John could move he wrapped his arms and legs around him, holding him still like a clingy octopus. "But not yet. You're warm. And it's cold outside the bed."

John laughed and settled back down in the sheets, kissing Sherlock's forehead. They dozed together a while longer and John found lazy Sunday mornings in bed with Sherlock were his favorite days of the week.


	3. A New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys decide to break out the board games to combat Sherlock's boredom during a lull in cases and to avoid the press just outside their door. And when that doesn't work, John has a back-up plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by this beautiful piece of art where Sherlock and John were watching the Star Wars series together, and by the end of it Sherlock is a massive Star Wars nerd and is wearing a Boba Fett helmet. It's by Flying Rotten and can be found [ here](http://flyingrotten.tumblr.com/post/76561212567).
> 
> And I may have been a tiny bit inspired by the newest installment in the Star Wars franchise because I went to see it Sunday night... but it was mostly the art.

"It was Mrs. White in the ballroom with the candlestick," Sherlock said after picking up his cards.

"Oh my god!" John cried. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Process of elimination," he stated. "There are three cards in the little 'evidence' envelope, which is in no way accurate to an actual evidence folder in the slightest, in the centre of the board. One for each type of card. That means there are five suspect cards, five weapon cards, and eight room cards available. Divided evenly between us, that gives us nine cards each. I have five out of the eight room cards, which narrows down the possibilities considerably, and I have two each of the suspect and weapon cards, which means you have three each of those plus three room cards. And given how you like to place your cards in alphabetical order from left to right and separated by the subject of the cards, meaning you group the suspects together and so on, I've deduced it's Mrs. White in the ballroom with the candlestick."

John glowered at him from behind his hand. "Go on and check if you're so bloody clever," he grumbled. He saw Sherlock's slim fingers pluck up the little evidence envelope from the centre of the board and then carefully laid out the cards one by one, revealing Mrs. White, then the ballroom, then finally the candlestick.

"OK! That's it! We're done with Cluedo!" John threw down his hand and pushed away from the kitchen table, stalking off to the sitting room to warm his hands in front of the roaring fire in the fireplace. He watched the flames dance and swirl around the logs, taking rhythmic breaths to calm himself down. He hated when he snapped at Sherlock when he had made a deduction, even during a stupid game of Cluedo, but sometimes he wished Sherlock would be able to just sit down and have fun and allow himself to relax without deducing everything. 

He first heard Sherlock's chair squeal against the tile floor before he felt him at his back. He smiled to himself when he felt Sherlock's long arms wrap around his waist and his chin dig into his shoulder. He knew Sherlock had to bend down quite a bit in order to do that given their height difference, and it was always a comical sight to imagine.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock murmured against John's neck. "I shouldn't have said anything. I should have just played the game."

"No, love, I'm sorry," John sighed. "I know you can't just shut your deductions off and on like a tap. Cluedo was a bad idea the first time. You and your brilliant deductions figuring out the cards before we'd even started the bloody game. Maybe we should have watched a movie instead."

"We still can. The paparazzi are still outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of us in the holiday spirit." John felt rather than saw the grimace on Sherlock's face as his chin shifted on his shoulder. 

"All they'll be able to see is the Christmas tree in the window. Don't worry. There won't be any sneaky pap photos tonight," John assured him, reaching back to pet his hair. Sherlock sighed and relaxed against him, his arms squeezing just a bit tighter around him. "Would you be up for watching a movie now?"

"I think anything is better than trying to play Cluedo again," he grumbled.

"Even  _Star Wars_?"

"What's that?"

John froze. "You... You've never seen _Star Wars_?"

"No. If I'm understanding your tone correctly, you find it shocking and appalling that I haven't seen the film?"

"Films," John corrected. "And yes, you're right. We're going to fix that right now. Sit." He pointed to the sofa and went to his DVD collection to find the first installment of the original  _Star Wars_  trilogy. 

"How many films are there?" Sherlock asked as he got comfortable. 

"Six," John said as he popped the disc into the side of the TV. "And we have to watch them in a specific order. There was the original trilogy which were made in the late 70s and early 80s, then the trilogy of prequels made in the early 2000s. So we're starting with _Episode IV: A New Hope_." He grabbed the remote and sat next to Sherlock on the sofa, draping a blanket across their laps to keep them warm.

"Wait... the last three films were made before the first three films?"

"Yes. And it just makes more sense to watch them in the order they were released, because the prequels spoil a lot of plot points in the original trilogy. And you need to experience all that in the right order."

"If I don't figure it out first," Sherlock scoffed.

"OK. Hold on." He muted the TV on the DVD menu and turned to glare at Sherlock. "Listen to me. Don't deduce what's going to happen. This was my favourite film series growing up, and now I'm sharing it with you, so please don't ruin it for yourself. Please. Just watch the films, OK?"

"OK, John," Sherlock said softly. He knew how important this was to John, and he wanted to make him happy. "I'll just watch. I won't deduce."

"Good." John smiled and kissed him sweetly. "Thank you." Sherlock hummed and John hit play, unmuting the TV.

"Oh, shit," John grumbled. "I didn't make popcorn. We can't watch a movie without popcorn."

"We'll manage, John," Sherlock said, wrapping his arms around him to prevent him from leaving. John laughed and settled down in the sofa, smiling as the opening credits began to play, the iconic music swelling and making his chest feel tight with nostalgia. 

"John," Sherlock whispered just ten minutes into the film. "What is this?"

"It's  _Star Wars_ ," John whispered back. "It's Jedi knights fighting for the freedom of the galaxy." When Sherlock continued to have a blank look on his face John said, "It's science fiction."

"Oh. No wonder it doesn't make any sense."

"Right. Just watch the movie. Things will be explained later."

Sherlock nodded and turned his attention back to the screen. By the end of the film Sherlock hadn't turned away from the screen or said a single word. He'd been completely enraptured by the action on the screen, his eyes blinking as he absorbed all the information. John grinned, happy to have finally found something they could share together.

"Want to watch the next episode?"

"Yes," he answered before John had even finished his sentence.

"OK. I'll make popcorn this time." He got up and kissed Sherlock tenderly to bring him out of his trance. "OK?"

"What? Yes. Popcorn. Right. Good," he said as he came back from the kiss. "Be quick, or I'll start without you."

"It's fine if you do. I've seen them all." John went into the kitchen and got the popcorn ready. Sherlock found the next film in the series and popped it into the player. John smiled to himself when he heard the music soar again. He turned to see Sherlock sitting on the sofa, leaning forward as if to better take in the film. He looked like a kid at Christmas with how he was devouring the films.

He came back with popcorn and held it under Sherlock's nose. "Eat," he said. "I know you won't if you're going to continue watching the films into the night." Sherlock blindly reached out and grabbed a handful of popcorn, shoving all the pieces into his mouth at once. John settled against him and held the popcorn bowl in his lap, snacking on the pieces while Sherlock ate a majority of it. He fell asleep halfway through the film, resting against Sherlock's shoulder. He didn't wake up until Sherlock began shouting. He'd reached the biggest plot twist in the universe: Darth Vader being Luke's father. He truly did keep his promise about not deducing the outcomes of the films.

"WHAT?!" he shrieked when Vader delivered his famous line. "WHAT?! JOHN! WHAT?!" He looked from the TV to John and back as Luke's reaction played onscreen, matching his own. "JOHN?!"

"I know, love. I know," he said, chuckling manically. "Just watch the remainder of the film. Then we should take a break."

"But there are three more to watch!" 

"Shush. We'll discuss this after you've finished this. Now watch." Sherlock eagerly turned back to the TV, watching the film with rapt attention that John only ever saw him give cases he rated an eight or above.

Finally, the film ended and Sherlock practically jumped up to put the sixth film in the DVD player. John stopped him before he could, much to Sherlock's confusion.

"John? What are you doing? We can't stop here! There's still so much to watch! So much to learn!"

"I know, love. But we need to take a break and get some food first. That popcorn has already worn off and now I'm starving. Come on. Let's order some takeaway and then I'll run something by you about the order of watching the films." That got Sherlock's attention. He looked up at him, eyes wide. "Food first," John reiterated. "Then we'll discuss the films."

Sherlock grumbled and sat back down on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest like a pouting child. John got some leftover Thai out of the fridge and warmed it in the microwave (which he had made Sherlock scrub clean until it was clean enough to use in an actual laboratory). He returned to the sitting room with the food and drinks on a tray and handed a glass and a bowl to Sherlock.

"Eat, please, love," he said, smiling softly at him. Sherlock took the offered food and drink and picked at the meal until he couldn't pretend to not be hungry anymore. He scarfed down the meal and downed the water, eager to begin watching  _Star Wars_ again.

"Now that that's over, let's discuss the films," John said when he'd finished his own meal. "There's another way of watching them from here. Either we continue on to  _Episode VI_ , or we watch the prequels as flashbacks before continuing on to  _Episode VI_. Now that the big spoiler is out of the way, we can do that."

"We'll just skip the last film to watch the first? How is that--"

"No, we won't skip the last film. What we'll do is we'll watch  _Episode I_ as a flashback. The first three films take place before the last three, obviously, and so if we begin watching  _Episode_ _I_ from here it will be like a flashback to how we got to where  _Episode IV_ begins. Does that make sense?"

"Oh. Oh! Yes! That makes perfect sense! Let's watch them like that."

"I thought you'd like that. Come on. Let's watch the first prequel now." 

Sherlock jumped up to put the DVD in and John settled on the sofa, saving a spot for Sherlock to cuddle up next to him. Sherlock plopped down on the sofa exactly where John wanted him and draped a blanket over them both. John hit play and the familiar music began to swell once more. 

"Oh my god," Sherlock breathed when the film finally began. "The CGI is so much better in this."

"Quite a difference twenty years will make," John murmured. Sherlock hummed in agreement and focused on the film. John was yawning before the pod race had even started and had drifted off again before Anakin had even won. Sherlock nudged him awake before the film's end, his excitement flowing through him and making him bounce on the sofa.

"Sherlock," John groaned. "We need to go to bed after this."

"What?" he cried, turning so quickly to face John that their foreheads nearly collided. "No! We can't! We need to finish the series!"

"Sherlock, there are four more films to watch and they're about two hours each. It's already almost midnight, and we aren't going to stay up for another eight hours to finish them. We're going to go to bed when this is finished and then we'll finish the marathon in the morning. The films will still be here."

"But--"

"No buts. You're going to get some rest and then we'll finish the movies in the morning. Understood?"

"Understood," he grumbled, turning his attention back to the screen to finish watching the film. He was giddy with excitement again by the end of it and protested once more when John got up to put the DVDs away.

"But I can't stop there!" he cried when John turned off the TV. "I need to know how the next episode begins! What happens with Anakin and the queen?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," John said, pulling Sherlock to his feet and shoving him toward the bathroom. "Now brush your teeth and use the loo. We're going to sleep."

"But--"

"Now, Sherlock," John stated, using his best Captain Watson tone that normally scared the new recruits and sometimes made officers tremble in their boots. But not Sherlock. He stood his ground, wanting to make his case, but he could see the determination and anger rising within John, so he didn't push it. He groaned and stomped off to the bathroom to do his nightly routine before bed. John soon joined him, brushing his teeth and washing his face before changing into his pyjamas. Sherlock had already crawled into bed, his back to John, pouting. John chuckled and crawled into bed behind him, placing a hand on his hip and kissing the back of his neck.

"Don't pout, love," he whispered. "We'll continue the series tomorrow. Don't you worry. We'll get to experience everything together tomorrow."

Sherlock softened at that, relaxing into John's touch. He listened to John's soft breaths, trying to match his rhythm so he'd begin to relax. He was able to fall asleep, but he continued to dream of the stars and Jedi knights (and a ruggedly handsome scoundrel) fighting for the safety of the galaxy. 

But when John woke up in the morning to find Sherlock hunched over their laptop, rapidly typing away on Amazon and some website called Think Geek for _Star Wars_ merchandise, he knew he'd finally converted his logical thinker into becoming the massive nerd he always knew he could be. All he had needed was a little shove from the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am doing a terrible job of posting these on time. Why do the holidays have to be so busy? Ugh. I just want to write, but I'm being dragged off to go Christmas shopping and to wrap presents right when my creativity is flowing. Hopefully I'll have more time to write after Christmas. Fingers crossed. But I'll be trying my best to get caught up in the next couple of days.


	4. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock go on their first public date since coming out as a couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coat I referenced for John can be found [ here ](http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/2e/a4/b2/2ea4b247458c8468b8c017d9612a458f.jpg).

John hummed happily as he futzed with his bowtie. He and Sherlock were going on their first public date since they’d announced their relationship, and he’d wanted it to be special. With Valentine’s Day rolling around he’d wanted to do something, but not anything centered on the holiday itself. It was just an excuse to finally go out.

“Stop messing with it,” Sherlock said when he came into the bedroom from the bathroom, freshly shaved and with his hair brushed back out of his face. “It looks fine. I tied it perfectly.”

“I don’t doubt it, love.” He wiggled it just a bit, straightening it on his shirt, and turned away from the mirror. “Oh. You look… wow.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock smiled as he pulled his jacket on. He hadn’t worn a tuxedo in quite some time, and since their date at the Royal Ballet had a strict dress code, he was more than excited to wear one. John looked rather dashing in his matching one as well. The only difference was the color of their pocket squares; John’s was red and Sherlock’s was a deep purple.

“As do you,” he said after he’d smoothed out his lapels.

“Oh. Thank you.” John beamed. It was quite rare when Sherlock actually approved of his appearance. But given Sherlock had taken John to his own tailor and had had a tuxedo custom made for him, he expected he looked much more presentable than he did on a day-to-day basis.

“I should take you to my tailor more often,” Sherlock mused as he brushed a rogue curl back. “You’d look much more professional at work wearing tailored clothes versus the frumpy jumpers you insist on wearing.”

“Hey, the jumpers make me appear approachable and it’s good for the hospital’s image. We’re a family hospital, not a hospital that caters to the rich and powerful.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t look more like a professional underneath those jumpers.” He groaned in frustration when his rogue curl refused to stay back. “This bloody thing,” he grumbled as he returned to the bathroom to put more product in his hair.

“I kind of like it,” John called out as he mussed with his own hair in the wardrobe mirror. “You don’t need to have your hair slicked back like that if you don’t want to have it that way.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” he shouted. “There’s too much product in it already and I don’t have time to wash it out before we have to leave.” He reappeared with his hair slicked completely back, like he’d just come fresh from the shower. John grimaced, and chewed on his thumb.

“You hate it,” Sherlock stated, frowning.

“Well, I don’t love it,” John said. “Come on. Take your jacket and shirt off. We’re going to wash all that out and then you’re going to style it as normal. Come on.”

He went into the kitchen and began running the tap in the sink to warm the water. While it warmed he took his jacket off and draped it over one of the chairs and rolled his sleeves up to keep them dry. Sherlock came in a few minutes later, laying his shirt, jacket, and bowtie over another chair, and handed John his shampoo, conditioner, and a towel.

“This will hurt your back since you’re so bloody tall,” John said. “But I’ll try to be quick. Stick your head under the water and then I’ll wash all that product out.” Sherlock sighed and nodded, stooping down to get his head in the sink so the water ran over his hair. John immediately began washing it, working the shampoo through his hair and getting as much product out on the first go as he could. After washing his hair once more he deemed it clean enough and put the conditioner on Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock’s back was beginning to shake from the strain of being bent over for so long. John moved behind him and gently ran his fingers over his muscles, relaxing them as he drew circles along his back.

“Just rinse the damn stuff out so I can stand up!” Sherlock groaned, spreading his legs out like a giraffe to hold himself up better. “All the blood is rushing to my head!”

“Just another minute on the conditioner,” John said, digging his fingers a little deeper into Sherlock’s back as he continued to massage him. “Then we’ll rinse it out and wrap your hair up in the towel and you can stand up. But you’ll probably want to sit down before you go anywhere. You’ll be dizzy when you stand up straight.”

Sherlock groaned and hung his head lower, his forehead touching the sink. He counted the seconds, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, until he reached sixty. He reached up to turn the water on and rinsed the conditioner out of his hair while John continued to run his hands all over his back. Once the conditioner was rinsed out he shut the water off and scrubbed at his hair with the towel before wrapping it up. He finally straightened up and instantly felt a wave of dizziness hit him, just as John had said, and stumbled back into an awaiting chair. Ah. John had predicted that as well. Good on him.

“Just sit for a mo and then you can style your hair like normal, OK?”

“Yeah. Sure. Um… what time is it?”

John checked his watch. “Six p.m. Why?”

“The cab will be coming around 6:30 to take us to the ballet. I’ll have to hurry.”

“It shouldn’t take you thirty minutes to dry your hair and put your curl enhancing mousse in your hair. You’ll have plenty of time.”

“I don’t use curl enhancing mousse!” Sherlock cried, shocked and appalled John would even think such a thing.

“You most certainly do. I’ve seen the can hidden under the sink behind the cleaning supplies. It’s OK to admit your curls aren’t naturally that bouncy.”

“But they are! That’s only for… special occasions. When I need them to look extra curly.”

“Oh? And when have you used that mousse then?”

“Usually on Christmas when you insist on throwing a party. But the last time I used it was… your wedding day.” John’s smile fell and he looked down at Sherlock, his eyes sad. He sat in the chair next to him and took his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles. They didn’t say anything for a minute, they just held on to one another, grounding themselves before they had to get ready for their date.

“Use the mousse tonight,” John whispered after a few tense minutes. “Let’s make the last time you used it a happier memory.”

“My thoughts exactly, John,” Sherlock whispered back. He squeezed his hand before letting go and standing up to go fix his hair. John cleaned up the kitchen and went back to the bedroom to readjust his shirt and put his jacket back on, checking himself in the mirror as he did so. He could hear Sherlock using the blow dryer in the bathroom, though he’d been drying his hair for the past ten minutes. He finally heard the dryer shut off and a minute later the sink was running. Sherlock rinsing the mousse off his hands most likely.

The door opened out into the kitchen, which meant Sherlock was retrieving his clothes. John smiled at him when he came into the bedroom, his eyes widening when he saw Sherlock’s shirt open and his tie hung around his neck. He looked like gorgeous and like pure sex.

Fuck.

He quickly averted his gaze to picking invisible lint off his jacket. Sherlock stood beside him to button up his shirt and retie his bowtie. John smiled at him as he slipped his jacket back on.

“Your hair looks a lot better,” he commented, reaching up to twirl a curl around his finger. “You look more like yourself now.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmured, turning his head to kiss John’s palm. “I feel a lot better now too.”

“Good. Now, let’s make sure we have everything before we head out. Tickets?”

“In my inside jacket pocket,” Sherlock said, reaching inside and pulling them out.

“Wallets?”

“In our respective back pockets.” He patted his as John did the same.

“Keys?”

“In your pocket.” John jingled the keys in his pocket and smiled up at Sherlock.

“Good. Now all we need are our coats and we’re ready to go.”

They went out to the sitting room and grabbed their coats off the coatrack. Sherlock had insisted on buying John a new one so he wouldn’t have to wear the black jacket Sherlock had deemed his “shooting jacket.” It was quite similar to his own, a soft wool blend that would keep him quite warm in the cold February weather, but it was a simple peacoat style versus the long Belstaff Sherlock had.

“OK. Let’s go.” He was about to head out the door when Sherlock grabbed his wrist, preventing him from doing so.

“We still have ten minutes until the cab gets here,” he explained to John’s quizzical look. “I know something we can do while we wait.” John was about to ask when Sherlock smirked and raised an eyebrow in the cheeky way John knew he wore when he was up to no good.

“Sher--” he managed to get out before Sherlock pressed their lips together in an extremely passionate kiss. He held John’s head in both his hands, easily framing his face and tilting his head up for easier access. John instantly melted into the kiss, Sherlock pressing him against the wall and deepening the kiss.

They were quickly interrupted by the honking of a horn outside. Their cab had arrived early.

“Damn,” Sherlock grumbled. He stepped back and smoothed down his tuxedo jacket and John’s. “Shame. I had something rather fun planned for us.” He smirked that cheeky smirk again and John laughed.

“Guess we’ll have to continue this when we get home.”

“Yes, I suppose we shall.” He quickly pecked John on the lips before throwing his coat on and waltzing out the door, completely composed as if he hadn’t just been snogged breathless. John put his own coat on and exited the flat, though he felt far less composed than Sherlock.

**…::-::…**

The ballet was as entertaining as a ballet could be. John was just thankful unlimited champagne was part of their ticket deal. He’d had quite a few flutes by the time intermission arrived, and by the end of the ballet he was quite tipsy. At least Sherlock had enjoyed himself. John watched Sherlock more than he did the ballet, which was far more entertaining. He adored the look of pure joy on Sherlock’s face as he watched the dancers fly across the stage, though he could see a tinge of sadness in his eyes as well. He made a mental note to take Sherlock out dancing someday soon as a surprise.

Once they were outside, John hailed a cab and took Sherlock’s hand, leading him inside. He was shocked they hadn’t come across any paparazzi the whole time they were out. Though he imagined that would change once they got to the restaurant John had booked for their dinner.

“No more champagne for you,” Sherlock chastised softly. “Don’t think I didn’t see the six flutes you drank at the ballet.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m done with alcohol for the night,” John assured him. “I don’t want to overdo it. I’ll feel better once I get some food in me.”

They arrived at the restaurant and John greeted the host and gave him their names. They were sat at a table far away from the windows and closer to the roaring fireplace. Their waiter brought out a bottle of wine, so they each had one glass to make a quick toast.

“To a successful date night,” John said. “Hopefully any paparazzi don’t ruin it after our delicious dinner.

“And to us,” Sherlock said. “Because tonight would have been utterly boring without you by my side.”

John awed and they clinked glasses, taking drinks of the sweet red Sherlock had picked. John was rubbish at picking “proper” wine, so he was thankful Sherlock fancied himself a bit of a connoisseur. They talked and laughed and held hands on top of the table, plainly visible to anyone who happened to look over at them. John still felt absolutely giddy about finally being able to be open with their relationship. They didn’t have to hide anymore. He felt so free.

The dinner went smoothly and without anyone interrupting them. Well, no _rude_ people interrupted them. A few people told John they read his blog and congratulated them both on finally getting together. One asked for a photo, but they politely turned the young man down. He was a bit miffed, but otherwise didn’t make a scene.

“I see someone lingering outside,” Sherlock said as they were putting on their coats.

“Pap?” John asked, discretely looking out toward the window by the front entrance.

“Yes,” Sherlock confirmed.

“Shall we go out through the back?”

“No. Might as well give them something. We’ll go out, hand-in-hand, and hail a cab. He’ll get a few photos, he’ll go home happy, and so shall we. It’s a win-win, so long as he doesn’t become intrusive.”

“I’ll break his camera if he does,” John grumbled, a hand clenching into a fist at his side.

“You wouldn’t be able to afford the replacement,” Sherlock scoffed. He smoothed down his collar and smiled fondly at his short-tempered companion. “We’ll be OK. We always are. Come on.” He held out his hand and made his face look as soft and inviting as possible. John softened and took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“OK. Let’s go. And let’s be fast.”

“Agreed.”

They left the restaurant and John immediately raised his hand for a cab. The paparazzi began snapping away, taking shot after shot of their brief walk down the pavement as John hailed a cab and they climbed inside. John instantly relaxed once they were in the cab, discretely watching out of the back window as the paparazzi snapped more photos until they were out of sight. He rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and sighed in relief.

“All in all, this was a pretty great night,” he murmured, a warm smile on his face.

“Though you didn’t enjoy the ballet,” Sherlock commented, his thumb stroking over John’s knuckles.

“What I watched of it I enjoyed,” John amended. “But I was more interested in watching you watch the ballet.”

“Oh?” Sherlock looked down at him, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Why?”

“Because I like watching you drop that wall you build up around yourself and actually showing human emotions. I know you have the wall to protect yourself, but do you know how truly beautiful you are when you let that down? Every time a ballerina did one of those big leaps--”

“A grand jeté,” Sherlock said, his French accent impeccable.

“Right. One of those. Your eyes widened every time and I saw a hint of a smile pull at the corner of your mouth. And when they were doing those small little leaps--”

“Entrechat.”

“Your whole face lit up. I’m not kidding. I actually saw light pore out of your skin and it illuminated you.”

“Improbable as it may be, the entrechat has always been my favorite to observe. It’s so--”

“Light and happy,” John said, smiling up at him. “I think that’s why it makes you light up so brightly.”

“It does make you feel light and airy when you perform it,” Sherlock mused, smiling as he remembered practicing the move in the ballet studio where he’d taken lessons as a child. “I suppose you’re right. It does make me feel… unfathomably happy.”

“As you deserve to be.” John turned Sherlock’s head so they could kiss, though Sherlock’s smile made it rather difficult.

They arrived home safely and John paid the cabbie while Sherlock jumped out to unlock the front door. He eagerly pushed John against the wall to kiss him, ready to resume where they’d left off before the cab had arrived to take them to the ballet.

“Sherlock, wait,” John said between Sherlock’s eager kisses. “Can we snog in bed? I’m exhausted, and I’d rather be somewhere comfortable if I’m going to risk falling asleep to your kisses.”

“Oh. Of course. I imagine that will be more comfortable for both of us in the long run.” John hummed in agreement and they headed up to the bedroom. John took his tuxedo off and changed into his pajamas. Sherlock hung their tuxedos with care and zipped them into a protective bag while John was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and quickly washing his face. He pecked Sherlock on the lips as he left the bathroom and crawled into bed. He made sure to stay awake while Sherlock was doing his nightly routine so he could kiss him asleep.

Sherlock practically bounced into bed and began to nearly smother John with kisses. John laughed and kissed him back, though he didn’t have quite as much energy as Sherlock did.

“If you aren’t going to be able to sleep, would you please go out to the sitting room?” he asked when they took a break to catch their breath. “You could play your violin and soothe me to sleep.”

“I may just do that,” Sherlock hummed, pressing a kiss to John’s jaw. “I’ll lull you to sleep while playing your favorite of the Four Seasons.”

“Oh, good.” John grinned and stole another kiss. “You’d better hurry. I can feel myself slipping into slumber. I seriously can’t keep my eyes open too much longer, Lock.”

“OK. I’ll head out in a moment. I just have to do one more thing.” He calmed down and gently cupped John’s face in his hands. He looked down at him, both their features soft and relaxed, and bent down to kiss him. It was soft and sweet and passionate, but not so much it got them riled up. John hummed into the kiss and brushed his hand through Sherlock’s hair.

“I love you, John,” Sherlock whispered when he pulled away. “Thank you for such a wonderful date.”

“You’re quite welcome, love,” John said around a yawn. “I had a great time. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself as well.” He pressed their foreheads together and kissed the tip of John’s nose. “I’ll go play you your violin piece now. I can feel you slipping into sleep already.”

“Hrm?” John hummed, his head already fuzzy from his exhaustion. Sherlock merely kissed him again before hopping up to go fetch his violin. John was almost asleep by the time he heard the sounds of Sherlock playing in the sitting room. He smiled and turned over onto his stomach, facing Sherlock’s side of the bed so they could cuddle up together once Sherlock finally came to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, all. For those of you who celebrate the holiday, I hope you had a wonderful day and you were with family, friends, and/or anyone you care about and who cares about you in return. Only one week until the Sherlock Victorian special! I'm going to make damn sure to be caught up on this before then, so I hope you like spam updates. Until tomorrow (or later today seeing as it's 4 a.m. EST for me right now). Next up: kissing. Lots of kissing. So much kissing.


	5. A Study in Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two things Sherlock loves more than his casework: John Watson and kissing John Watson. So he decided to run a few experiments to see which types of kisses he liked best and when. With John's knowledge and full consent, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so damn long to get out. I had to write a 15 page research paper over the winter holiday break and then my final semester at college (university) began on the 11th and I have had ZERO TIME for fics. But I'm going to try and update when I can. So this is going from a 30 day to just a simple 30 prompt challenge.

There are two things Sherlock loves more than his casework: John Watson and kissing John Watson. Before he and John had become a couple, he had not been aware of how many different ways there were to kiss a person. He was only familiar with the mothering kind, such as when his mother would kiss his forehead to gauge his temperature or kiss his cheek before he fell asleep. He'd never experienced romantic kisses, kisses that were illogically intended to heal minor skin abrasions, nor those types of kisses that weren’t really kisses but just a press of lips against skin early in the morning when they’d just woken up and were still tired. But John, always John, was the one to change all that.

During their many months together, Sherlock had experienced so many different types of kisses that he found he had to start making a list of them all as well as the ones he and John preferred to the others. He had a separate list of kisses that were a bit not good as well, mostly consisting of trying to give kisses during an experiment or before he’d showered after an experiment or at rather gruesome crime scenes. He filled an entire notebook with the kisses they had shared, when and why they had occurred, which ones they loved, which ones they hated, and which ones were suitable to give in public.

Sherlock knows John’s favourite kisses are the ones he gives him in the morning when they’ve just woken up or right before they go to bed. Sometimes it’s just a soft kiss against a cheek, a firmer press of lips to the forehead or the tip of John’s nose (which he always wrinkles afterward and smiles a soft, goofy smile), or sweet kisses against plush lips, tasting of toothpaste or morning breath. He knows John is also partial to the Eskimo kisses he gives him at crime scenes and late nights at the Yard or the morgue. He’d had to show him what an Eskimo kiss was, of course. Had sat him down, dipped his head, and nuzzled the tips of their noses together. He’d laughed, commenting on the ridiculousness of the kiss, but he did it at the next crime scene they were at and never stopped. It was just a delicate and appropriate way to show John affection whilst in public, and sometimes he’d sneak a butterfly eyelash kiss in, which he knew John loved as well. He’d been taught how to give the eyelash kisses as a child and had, of course, deleted the information. But when John showed him how to do them again, the happy memory returned and he tried to give John soft, fluttery kisses whenever he could. They normally occur in bed, when they’ve just woken up or they’re having a lie-in. Depending on if Sherlock’s head is actually on his pillow or pillowed on John’s chest, he’ll flutter his lashes against John’s cheek or pectoral, and John would always sigh in content and kiss his hair.

Equally, John knows which kisses Sherlock loves the most. The simple pecks in the shower in the morning before John leaves for work. The kisses to his hair and forehead when they’re cuddled together in bed, on the sofa, in front of the fireplace, the back of a cab, or anywhere else they can manage to cuddle up. The kisses they sneak in at the Yard despite John’s qualms of public displays of affection. But the kisses he presses to the back of Sherlock’s neck he knows are the ones he loves the most. When he’s at the kitchen table, peering down into his microscope or writing down detailed notes in one of his many scientific notebooks or when he’s eating, John will walk over and kiss the nape of his neck just below where his little nape curl ends. The kisses always make Sherlock shiver in delight and a soft pink colours his cheeks.

Their favourite kiss to share together will come on the day Sherlock returns after his two-year absence after his fall from Saint Bart’s. Their favourite kiss will be full of apologies and missed opportunities and forgiveness. Passion, frustration, elation, rage, sorrow. All wrapped up into one kiss.

But nothing will trump the kiss they’ll share when they say yes, and when they finally say “I do.”


	6. Because it's Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 6 - wearing each other's clothes
> 
> In celebration of The Day They Met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's the day. The day they met. So I felt the need to write a ficlet to commemorate it. So have some fluff and tooth-rotting sweetness.

John woke up Friday morning with an odd weight in his chest. He frowned and checked his pulse (normal), then gently prodded around his chest to check for any abnormalities (there weren’t any). He grabbed his phone from his bedside table, being careful not to wake Sherlock who was curled up beside him and sleeping peacefully for the first time in days, and grabbed his phone. It was then that he saw the date.

29 January 2016.

“Oh,” he whispered. He sat back in bed and stared at the little square on his calendar app. Six years. They’d known each other for six years today. The weight in his chest felt heavier now, but he wasn’t concerned anymore now that he knew the cause.

Six years together. Six years of friendship. Six years of madness and mayhem and a two-year pinch of sorrow, but they’d shared and made an unquantifiable amount of happiness together. They’d found each other again after Bart’s, had forgiven one another, and had found that happiness again. John smiled and closed his eyes, letting that happiness flow over him now.

“Put your phone down and cuddle me,” Sherlock grumbled behind him. John laughed and turned around, his phone left on the bed behind him. He pulled Sherlock into his arms and kissed his forehead, a sleepy smile pulling at Sherlock’s lips.

“Is that my army recruit t-shirt?” John asked, feeling the tell-tale worn design as his hand trailing down Sherlock’s back.

“Mmm. Yes,” Sherlock hummed. “’S soft. Comfy.”

“It was in my dresser drawer,” John pointed out. “Why’d you pick it out?”

“You know why,” he murmured.

“Because it’s today.”

“Because it’s today,” Sherlock confirmed. He opened his eyes and smiled at John, his giant hand covering John’s on his chest. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” John parroted. He pulled Sherlock in for a kiss, his hand sliding up Sherlock’s back to tangle in his curly hair. Sherlock hummed into the kiss and squeezed John’s hand. They broke apart and settled down into the bed again, wrapped around each other.

“We should go out tonight,” John whispered after a few minutes. Sherlock snorted as he woke, having fallen into a doze.

“Go out?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s our anniversary after all. We should celebrate.”

“Can’t we just order a Chinese and drink some wine at home?” Sherlock whinged.

“Well, yes. I suppose we could,” John acquiesced.

“Good.” He wrapped himself tighter around John and nuzzled the crook of his neck down to his collarbone. “Later. Now is for cuddling.”

“Sherlock Holmes, the cuddle octopus,” John snickered. “I never would have pegged you for a cuddler.”

“And I never would have been if it hadn’t been you,” Sherlock mumbled into his neck. “It’s always you, John Watson.”

“As it should be.” He grinned and kissed his messy curls, Sherlock purring at the contact. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll wake you later so we can get ready for our at-home-celebration.”

Sherlock snuffled in response, already well on his way to falling back asleep.

Later, John had popped out to the nearest Tesco to grab some wine to drink with the Chinese. He’d thrown Sherlock’s scarf on without really thinking about it, but since the man had taken his army recruit t-shirt he figured it was only fair that he wore his scarf. And it really was quite warm and kept the skin of his neck protected from the cold January air.

He returned home, bottles of wine in hand, and popped them in the fridge to chill. Sherlock was in the sitting room playing his violin, his suit jacket on but John knew he was still wearing his t-shirt. And that was fine. It was their anniversary after all, and they’d shared their clothes before on numerous occasions. Today’s just had a deeper, special meaning.

“I’ve already ordered dinner,” Sherlock said when John picked up the takeaway menu for their favourite Chinese restaurant. “It should be here in half an hour.”

“Excellent,” John said as he pulled off his coat, leaving his scarf on for the time being. It was still rather chilly in the flat, and while his jumper would keep his torso warm, his neck would still be cold. He felt his reasoning was sound in keeping on the scarf. Not because he didn’t want to take it off yet, but because he didn’t want his neck to get cold.

The Chinese soon arrived and they sat at the kitchen table. Sherlock had made sure to sterilize it whilst John was gone, cleaning up his various experiments and putting away the ones that he had completed ages ago. John set their dinner onto proper plates and poured them each a sizable glass of wine. John held his out to make a toast and Sherlock raised his to meet John’s.

“To six years of friendship,” John said.

“And ten collective months of romance,” Sherlock added.

“And to many more.”

“Many, many more,” Sherlock agreed. They grinned at one another and clinked their glasses together.

They cuddled together again in bed that night, Sherlock having changed into his standard grey t-shirt and John was in just his boxers. They kissed each other softly, sweetly, and John sucked on Sherlock’s bottom lip before pulling away.

“I love you,” he whispered, cradling Sherlock’s face in his hands.

“I love you too,” Sherlock whispered, nuzzling his nose against John’s. John giggled and kissed his cheek.

“Happy anniversary, Sherlock.”

“Happy anniversary, John.”


End file.
